


gold guns girls

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Series: the band fic au [2]
Category: Skins (UK) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-11
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:38:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the band fic au, part 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	gold guns girls

Is it ever gonna be enough? –Metric, “Gold Guns Girls”

I.

It’s dizzying, most times, playing a set with Lily; the light’s always against Meg’s eyes and it renders Lily’s writhing figure as a silhouette. The sight of it never fails to make Meg’s breath hitch, every time; maddening is a word Meg likes to use for it, this way Lily moves, always inspiring blockage in the throat, if you’re looking all too closely.

All of it’s inappropriate, yes; Meg knows it’s horrible for the music, and the whole band-mates-sleeping-with-each-other thing has always struck her as sort of clichéd anyway, but then. But then it hasn’t stopped her from wanting anyway, and so on days when the utter _intensity_ of it gets too much to bear Meg just does it and disappears.

*

On Kat’s first night back, right after watching Meg and Lily’s gig, Meg drops Kat off at her flat before driving Lily to hers. The whole ride is quiet; every so often, she meets Lily’s eyes on the rear view mirror, but Lily’s always averting them anyway, so Meg quits looking after the fourth try. The streets are still given the hour; the whole city’s asleep, yet in her veins Meg can feel the caffeine stirring warmly, almost ticklish under her skin.

“What’s the matter with you?” asks Lily, alighting from the back of Meg’s car. She goes around the back of it and starts knocking upon the surface of the trunk, where they’d stashed Lily’s keyboard. Meg reaches for her keys and opens her door, grabbing her pack of fags from the dashboard on the way out. She’s shaking her head, gripping the unlit fag between pursed lips as she shoves the trunk open, and Lily looks at her before leaning in to haul it out. “Meg.”

Meg pauses to light the cigarette, exhaling as she reaches over to close the trunk after her. “Just tired,” she just says, leaning against the back of her car momentarily, looking out into the empty street. From a few posts over, a streetlamp flickers before dying; a panicked cat dashes over to the better lit side, knocking over a small can of trash as it sprints.

There’s a brief rustling before Meg feels Lily settling alongside her, leaning over for a share of her lit fag. Upon the underside of Lily’s wrist, Meg notices some kind of smudged ink, and she looks away instantly, hoping it isn’t what she thinks it is. _But of course, it is what it is_ ; Meg inhales before turning the cigarette over. It’s got “Kat” written all over it, after all; besides, the ink couldn’t have come from anywhere other than Kat’s pen, anyway.

“Get some rest then, yeah?” says Lily. When she returns the cigarette, it’s with her other hand now; perhaps she must have remembered, and right now, Meg can tell how Lily’s praying that it went unnoticed.

Meg nods, looking at her shoes; Lily touches her on the arm briefly before moving away and walking toward their gate, keyboard slung over her shoulder. There’s a metal sort of grating as Lily opens the gate and closes it after her. Meg doesn’t look, concentrating instead on lighting another fag; she doesn’t go and start her car, either. Instead she stays there, and when she looks up halfway through her cigarette, it’s just in time to see the lights open in Lily’s room; of course, Meg knows just where to look, and in a bit Lily leans out of her open window, lifting a lit fag to her face, looking at Meg.

For a while they just stand there like that; smoking with each other in the distance. When Meg’s fag is done she drops it, the heel of her boot making a coarse, crunching sound as she stubs it against the pavement. Lily’s still smoking when Meg raises her hand for a small goodbye before turning back around to start the car, the move so quick that she doesn’t even catch the gesture Lily actually responds with.

Meg reaches for her mobile, punches in a number as she makes a U-turn and drives toward the opposite direction; she’s not going home, not at all. “Hey Jack,” she says when he picks up, and on the other end, it sounds like the crowd is still mad and jumping despite it being already so near daybreak.

Jack’s cursing over the noise; in her head Meg sees him screaming into his mobile amidst blinking lights. He’s saying, “Oi Megan, come play, we’ve got a couple more sets – just come, yeah?” In the background, she can make out someone singing about living fast and dying young, and Meg just finds herself stepping into the pedal harder.

“Right, right,” she just says, rolling her window down as she hits a wider road, dangling a cigarette-wielding hand out of it. “Where the fuck are you?”

On the other end, Jack laughs hard first before telling.

*

II.

Meg worries a little about the empty parking lot; has she arrived too late? She briefly considers just driving back home before spotting Jack’s SUV parked by the wall. Meg rolls into the slot beside it easily, smiling. Indeed, as always, the place looks deserted _on the outside_ , but then all these years frequenting Jack’s haunts Meg should really know better than to judge.

The thing that strikes her hardest is how there’s this split second she spends standing before the door actually _believing_ that the place is all quiet; of course, Meg isn’t altogether _fooled_ , but that moment before she puts her hand against the door and _feels_ the vibration from the inside – everything is just fucking _still_ , and Meg inhales deeply first, bracing herself before pushing it open.

Stepping inside is like plunging underwater, the vibration wrapping around her like a tingly-ticklish coat. From afar she hears Jack holler and when she turns her head, he’s waving his arms madly above his head, the movement dizzying underneath constantly blinking lights.

“Fucking hell, Prescott!” he yells over the music, grabbing Meg in a one-armed hug once she’s made her way over to the corner where Jack is doing tequila shots; the gesture’s affectionate, if not just altogether _brotherly_.

“Looking good Jack,” says Meg, grinning as she pats Jack on the chest; he just laughs openly in response, throwing his head back. Meg nods over to the guy seated behind him. “You too, Luke.” Luke just smiles (definitely stoned, Meg notes – no surprise there at all) as he leans in closer, stretching himself without standing and giving Meg a fist bump.

When Meg turns to look at the stage, the band that’s playing strikes her as somewhat familiar; after all, it’s a small incestuous circle, in that it’s quite impossible not to play for someone at one point or another until you’ve played at least once for them all. Meg finds herself nodding to a repetitive string of piano keys when something cold and damp brushes against her elbow.

“Been a long while, Meg.” It’s Kaya nudging a bottle of beer toward her, a smirk on her face. “Drink?”

All of a sudden it’s entirely too warm where she’s stood, and Meg fiddles lightly with the neckline of her top. “Hey,” she manages, shifting slightly to wrap a hand around the beer Kaya’s handing over. “Thanks.” Kaya’s leaning too close now, fingertips light upon Meg’s arm; Meg’s just looking at her cautiously, wondering just how much Kaya had had to drink, before taking a swig herself.

It’s not entirely uncharacteristic though; drunk or not, Kaya’s always sending these mixed signals Meg’s way anyway, so it doesn’t exactly throw Meg at all. Under the shifting lights, Kaya looks all too young, heavy eyeliner notwithstanding. Perhaps noting how Meg’s looking, she just asks, “So which one are you in on?”

“Jack hasn’t told me yet,” Meg replies, eyes falling upon the space where Kaya’s fingers are still playing – right above a vaccine scar on Meg’s right arm.

“Dunno what we’re playing, actually,” says Kaya, pushing into the skin. Meg tries not to gasp so audibly – it isn’t too hard, considering how the music’s still playing loudly. “I’d always enjoyed that really slow Electric Feel cover we always did – just sayin’.” There’s a slur at the end of it, and Kaya’s looking right at her like she’s asking for _something_ , and just then Jack comes around with two shot glasses of tequila.

“You ready, Meg?” Jack asks, frowning slightly at her beer. “Fucking hell, Kaya’s always beating me to you, isn’t she?”

Kaya smirks, her laugh coming out low and raspy. “We should totally do Electric Feel tonight,” she tells Jack, reaching for the tequila; her eyes are on Meg as she licks salt off the skin of her hand before taking the shot, never once taking it off all the while she’s sucking on the lemon, after.

Jack laughs, says, “Anything for you girls,” before offering the tequila toward Meg again. “Come on, Megan, just one.”

Meg glances at Kaya, who simply darts her tongue out to briefly lick at her lower lip in response; clearly, the only way to suppress the shudder that courses through her would be to accept the offer, and so Meg licks the salt off her own wrist with closed eyes before taking the shot altogether; she can hear Jack cheering her on loudly, but it sounds faraway, because when Meg opens her eyes, it’s Kaya who has the piece of lemon.

“You ready?” The way Kaya asks – low and rough, like she’s almost purring – it feels like it’s intoxicating Meg further, and her hand just shakes a little as she reaches for the lemon between Kaya’s fingers.

There’s screaming and an extra loud round of applause and then Jack’s saying, “We’re setting up in a bit, they’re done,” before patting Meg on the shoulder. Meg blinks twice, thrice; shaking her head to get the tequila out of her head. “Are you fucking excited or what?”

Meg reaches from behind her to slide her sticks out of her pocket, rolling them inside her hands before nodding. “Can’t be more excited if I tried,” she just says, managing a wink toward Jack as she walks after them toward the stage. Jack climbs first, setting up his rhythm and beat machine amidst the escalating screams from the crowd, and Meg just seats herself behind her usual spot, twirling her drumsticks idly and starting a lazy familiar beat.

Kaya addresses the crowd, asks them about their night; for a split-second, Meg almost remembers Lily in the way Kaya’s wrapped around the mic stand and right then she forces herself to look away. Off to her side, Luke’s testing his bass and tapping his foot; Meg tries to follow it steadily, and the audience claps along.

“Jack,” Meg calls out and Jack just gives her a thumbs up sign. “All right,” she calls out, tapping the sticks together above head.

Kaya looks over her shoulder and blows Meg a kiss before turning back around to begin.

(Meg bites down on her lip hard to keep her focus throughout; tries not to get distracted off the pulse of it whenever Kaya comes around closer, dancing.)

*

The day’s already slowly setting in when they stumble out of the club. Jack and Luke go first, hauling out the equipment, and Meg tries hard to hold both herself and Kaya up; Meg’s slightly buzzed, but whether from the alcohol she’d mixed for the past few hours or the sheer energy of their last two sets, she can’t figure out which exactly. Kaya’s arm is heavy around Meg’s shoulder; Kaya smells of cigarette smoke and lilac shampoo and her tank top’s damp where it comes in contact with Meg’s skin.

Jack laughs as he looks up to the sky before opening the back of his SUV. “Good morning girls,” he slurs, slipping a pack of fags from the back of his jeans. Luke shoves him aside lightly, reaching in for Jack’s keys to open the trunk himself.

Kaya’s laugh is too close to Meg’s ear as she feels Kaya pull her in closer by the neck. “Good night, wasn’t that?” Kaya just says, the cold morning air and the warmth of her skin all too confusing; Meg tries coping by snapping her finger at Jack and motioning for his fag. Jack shrugs as he takes the initial drag off it and hands it over before slipping a second one out.

As Meg draws from the cigarette, Kaya leans in closer, fingers extended and wrapping around the filter; she’s surprisingly coordinated for someone who’s had that much to drink, her fingertips barely grazing Meg’s lips in the process. Kaya looks over as she takes a drag herself, and Meg looks away from the sight of her lips wrapping around a place Meg’s already been.

“So.” Kaya says again, over the noise of Luke closing a door. She slides her arms off Meg’s shoulder, deliberately grazing every space of skin, slowly. “Where to?” Meg turns away, stretching; there are places on her body that Kaya’s left burning. “Meg?” Kaya nudges her slightly and when she looks back, Kaya’s offering the fag back and she takes it, drawing from it deeply.

“Home,” Meg breathes out, moving toward the driver’s side of her car. Above the roof of it she catches Jack’s eye, and he just laughs, shaking his head before opening his door. “Fucking long day was _long_ ,” Meg mutters under her breath before getting in and then Jack’s starting his engine.

Meg sees him pulling out of the parking space through her passenger side window, and she starts her engine in kind; a bit later, she hears him rapping the metal side of his door with what sounds like an open hand, yelling, “You coming, Kaya?” Meg has already inched a little backward but she has to step on the brakes again at the sight of Kaya walking toward her passenger door.

There’s a smile on her face when she opens it and slips into the passenger seat, looking all fucking _giddy_. “So,” she just says, closing the door after her. “You were saying?”

Meg’s mouth is dry, and she tries swallowing before drawing from her cigarette one last time before flicking it out the window and breathing in. “Let’s get some breakfast,” she says finally, clearing her throat. The day’s not about to end; Kaya’s always made sure it never does when she’s around.

*

Sure, Kaya’s always fucking about with these kinds of things, but it’s always with an _audience_ , and that’s what throws Meg off that day, when Kaya starts kissing her against the shut door of Meg’s apartment, for a change. It’s already sun out and that makes it different too, that Meg can actually see her under proper amount of sunlight and not in the midst of swirling low lights in all too dark places.

They had the car windows down throughout the drive, and it seems the early day breeze on the way over has managed to clean the smell of the night before out of Kaya’s skin; she smells like a new morning and under Meg’s hands the give of her skin’s too soft, the edge of bones struggling out the surface.

Meg stops first; _of course_ she does, pushing Kaya away gently with her hands still wrapped firmly around her waist. “Hey,” she just says, even when in her head she’s actually screaming, _What the fuck was that?_

Kaya just shakes her head, laughs a little, touching her lips with the back of her hand; she says nothing, and it’s so _Kaya_ that all Meg comes up with is a soft laugh herself. “Fucking hell,” Meg whispers, moving toward her room. She pushes against the door and leaves it open, pulling her top above her head and taking out a fresh loose shirt from a drawer.

“Got one to spare for me?” When Meg turns around, Kaya’s leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her chest; she’s smiling all too lazily and Meg asks herself how else she’s supposed to respond to a thing like that. After a bit, she rolls her eyes, sighing as she pulls out another one, something a bit smaller that she then tosses over to Kaya by the door. Meg looks away just as Kaya strips her top off and puts Meg's shirt on.

There’s scratching by the bed; Kaya’s beaten her to it, and Meg’s far too knackered to give up her space for the sake of propriety. “I hope you’re not too… wriggly,” Meg says, seating herself carefully upon the edge. Kaya’s already lying down on her side, head propped on an elbow.

“Girls, they like to wriggle,” Kaya just says, still with the devil in her smile, and Meg thinks about how she hasn’t had enough sleep for something this complicated. “Good morning, Meg,” Kaya adds, and with that her eyes flutter close, her head dipping into the pillow, slowly.

Meg doesn’t have the words – not that this surprises her, and she spends the first few moments on the bed looking over at Kaya, waiting for her breathing to even out; it does so quickly – no surprise there either, considering just how long she’s spent on her feet, and carefully Meg tries to settle on the bed, placing as much space between them as possible with neither of them falling off the edge.

(Meg spends the first hour trying very, very hard.)

*

When Meg wakes, it’s mid-afternoon, and she’s alone, as expected. Kaya isn’t the sort who stays, but when Meg turns over she sees a kiss mark on the mirror of her dresser, post-it stuck beside it, holding what seems like Kaya’s scrawl.

She says, _Thanks, again soon?_ and signs it with a fancy K. Meg smiles as she peels it off the surface before checking her phone – two missed calls, both from Lily. The name puts something in her throat and her breath hitches, a little.

 _It’s only been a day_ , Meg reminds herself, returning to bed. It’s always the first one that’s the longest, anyway.

*

III.

Before Meg knows it, it’s already weeks later and she finally decides to show up for practice. She breathes in before pushing the door to the studio open, bracing herself for her first time back; Kaya’s long gone from her system, and right now, in this familiar place, she can’t even bear to think about Lily and Kat and the days between.

When Meg steps in, the first thing she sees is Lily fixing the microphone; when she looks up at the sound of the opening door, she gets this look on her face that totally throws Meg – it’s half- _I missed you_ , half- _Fuck you_ and Meg just looks away for the lack of appropriate response.

They don’t talk at all throughout, apart from when one of them has to apologize for missing a cue somewhere, but it’s always to the group and never to each other.

*

It’s a few days later when Kat shows up; she’s huddled on the sofa by the corner when Meg sees her. Meg wonders why it still strikes her as a surprise, that Kat’s even here, when she’s spent most of the past few days trying to prepare herself for this exact scene. Not like she didn’t see this coming.

“We’ll be here all day,” Meg just says, clearing her throat. Kat lifts her eyes off the screen of her laptop to look at Meg before raising her hand in a small wave. Meg just shrugs before walking over and dropping her bag at the other edge of the sofa, near Kat’s feet.

Kat says, “I don’t mind,” shifting her eyes over to something just past Meg’s shoulder. It’s deliberate, the gesture; it seems that Kat _knows_ exactly what it does. Meg shakes her head as she takes her drumsticks out of her bag, mouthing _Fuck off_ to Kat, who just looks back with a raised brow.

She doesn’t say anything in response to Lily’s soft and tentative “Hello” as she walks past her, their shoulders brushing briefly. Meg inhales as she takes a seat, starting a gradual random beat that turns out to be not unlike this drumming in her chest. When she dares look Kat’s way again, she’s chewing on the edge of her pen, unabashedly _staring_ , and when Lily clears her throat a long while after, Meg starts hitting in earnest and just like that, they’re off.

Meg tries distracting herself by thinking of Kaya; not the kiss per se, but the way she moves on stage, her all-too-thin frame lithe; her voice surprisingly low and solid. Her eyes and that startling shade of blue. _Blue_. At the thought of the color, her mind predictably shifts back to Lily, and it’s useless, really, all this effort to take her mind off the very thing that’s been flooding every corner of it.

She chances another glance at Kat, who’s now shifted to a sitting position on the sofa, her laptop shut beside her. Kat’s looking at Lily in that singular manner that Meg’s rarely even seen, and Meg wonders for a moment if Lily’s looking as well; stops the thought when it starts stinging.

*

At the end of it, Meg watches as Lily zips her keyboard case shut before heading over to Kat without even looking back. Kat pushes herself off the sofa to greet her, lighting up like a fucking city, laughing as she touches Lily’s arm. Meg’s sitting too far to figure out exactly what Lily’s telling Kat, but the low murmur of her voice is there; it fills the fucking studio, and finally, Meg pushes herself off her seat, thinking about getting this day over and done with.

Meg walks over, reaches between them for her bag with a curt and stern, “Excuse me,” before heading to the restroom. Kat stops in mid-sentence and Meg tries not to think about how the way Lily’s soft, “Oh,” actually sounded like something else.

In the restroom, she pulls out a towel and starts with her arms. Kat notwithstanding, the day has been productive; her damp top’s an easy proof of that. She’s staring at herself on the mirror when the door opens, and when she shifts her eyes a bit, she sees Lily.

“You all right?” she asks, soft like she’s careful and wary of tripping _something_. It’s curious, how Lily has always seemed to keep up with Meg’s moods so well and so accurately; but then again, Meg just thinks, it must be all those years in between.

Lily closes the door behind her, settling beside Meg in front of the mirror. Meg looks at her through it, makes a face before shuddering slightly. _It’s the exhaustion_ , she reminds herself sternly; Lily lets out this small laugh as she exhales and Meg shifts her eyes back to her own reflection, reaching up to fix her hair, trying to look casual; like hearing that laugh hasn’t just caused her world to tilt sideways, or something.

“I missed this,” Meg finds herself saying. She tries to ignore the smile that ghosts over Lily’s lips in that brief moment Meg looks at her. Meg pulls a little at her scalp, thinking, _Keep it together_ , before adding, “Been a while since I last hit something,” as she shifts her eyes back to herself.

“Where have you been?” asks Lily. It’s got none of the accusation that a similar question fielded by _Kat_ usually carries. Lily’s looking at her expectantly, and off the mirror, Meg catches a tinge of _worry_ managing to seep through.

Meg shrugs, pushing the towel back into her bag and looking into it; anything that’s not Lily’s eyes. “Visiting friends,” she just says, before turning around and heading into one of the cubicles. She fumbles with the lock briefly, her hands suddenly slippery and useless. Meg bites her lip so as not to make a sound out of frustration and some kind of unidentifiable pain; breathes out as she pulls her top overhead, taking a moment to lean against the tiled wall, the cold of it clashing starkly with the heat off the bare skin of her back.

Lily’s got a hand on the door when Meg comes right back out; she steps away from it to join Meg before the mirror again. “Kat says you’ve been seeing quite a lot of each other,” Meg begins. It’s a lie, of course; Kat never tells her _anything_ , but it’s a good way to start _this_ conversation; might as well now than later.

The way Lily flinches says a lot more than what she responds with. “She talks about that, yeah?” Not a yes, but it’s not an outright denial either, so.

“Have you slept together yet?” The delivery’s better than Meg could have possibly hoped for; no trace of stutter there, no hesitation, nothing that betrays the way her chest is so painfully full.

“What?” Lily’s taken her eyes off the mirror, her head turned and facing Meg instead.

Meg shifts her head in kind – it’s just proper, she thinks – and she tries not to give anything away in the way she looks at Lily, now that she’s holding her eyes without the mirror as a third-party shield. “I told you, it’s what she does,” she just says, and there’s this nagging thought in her head that she’s just failed to shut the feeling out of her eyes, if she were to simply go by how Lily’s looking back at her. _Shit_ , Meg thinks, looking away.

“What are you talking about, Meg?” says Lily, breathing in, and then out. “Kat and I are friends.”

 _Fine, you keep telling yourself that_ , Meg just thinks; it’s so close to the tip of her tongue that it’s almost out. She bites down on it hard, shaking her head as she picks her bag up. “You know what,” she says instead, “ Whatever, do what you want.” Meg moves toward the door, brushing against Lily’s shoulder; the contact stings and lingers. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

When Meg emerges from the restroom, Kat looks up from the corner just as the door shuts. “Meg.”

Meg just says, “Fuck off, yeah?” walking past her quickly without even looking. “I meant that the first time.”

*

Expectedly, Kat doesn’t show up the next time they perform and Meg tries to ignore the way Lily sounds as if she were sleepwalking through their first few songs; tries to compensate until she feels the overexertion in her wrists during the first break.

When Lily turns away from the microphone to face her, Meg shifts her eyes immediately to the bar to gesture for her drink, if only to avoid catching whatever look Lily’s about to give her. Meg makes a V-sign with two fingers for vodka, and the man who takes her order shoots her a confused look – he’s always been the one in charge when they come play, and it’s _never_ vodka. Meg nods once, confirming it. Above them, there’s unfamiliar electronica blasting out of the speakers, filling the dead air. The beat reminds Meg of the soreness in her forearms, and she gives her wrists a little twist.

Lily touches Meg’s arm, and when Meg looks up, Lily’s mouthing, “You okay?” Meg just shrugs, motioning to the waiter, who’s just come up behind Lily holding Meg’s glass of vodka in one hand and Lily’s beer with the other.

Lily says nothing as she hands Meg her drink and Meg tries to hide her surprise; it’s been a few years since Meg’s attempted something like this, and that last time wasn’t particularly pleasant – not that she remembers much about that night, or at least perhaps not as much as Lily, who was definitely more sober then. In the end, it’s what baffles Meg really, because Lily even hands her a second glass without comment, and Meg senses that if there’s anything up, it must be something about Kat.

 _Fucking Kat_ , Meg just thinks, before, “Kat’s away a few days?” She keeps her eyes steady upon her drum sticks, the shifting lights dizzying as the vodka creeps in. “Did she tell you…”

“No,” Lily interjects, and the first word that enters Meg’s mind after is _lie_.

Meg closes her eyes a moment, tries to focus on the buzz that’s slowly wrapping around her head; this burning in her throat. When she opens them to look, the lights around Lily seem to be shifting more slowly, leaving shimmering tails all over, and Meg just finds herself saying, “Right,” before turning away to start the beat. Her arms don’t feel that sore, and her wrists feel numb, but it’s all right.

 _It’s going to be all right_ , Meg tells herself more firmly. Somewhere in between two songs, she pauses to kick her shoes off, and when she looks back at Lily’s figure wrapped around the mic stand, Meg can’t decide if Lily’s really shaking or if it’s just her eyes.

*

Meg plays with her eyes shut throughout; the lights make her nauseous at best, and someone has to keep playing without having to pause to throw up. At the end of it, Meg opens her eyes when the applause breaks, and Lily’s standard velvety “Thank you” rings all around. There’s extra loud hooting from somewhere far back, and Lily lets out a low laugh at it, thanking the sound; it comes off suddenly so sincere, and right then it hits Meg, how it had been a considerable while since she’s last heard a laugh _like that_ , and she feels herself smiling. Lily turns around then, just in time to catch it.

Meg leans over to put her shoes back on; feels the world swivel a little as she stands, and she shoots out a hand to steady herself against the wall. Lily’s already by the door, talking with a few people, only smiling back at them even when she can afford to laugh; looking shyly at her feet every so often, gesturing faintly with her hands.

Meg keeps looking, thinking about how Lily could be this ridiculously shy around fans; feels something warm press against her chest. She tells herself it’s nothing but the vodka.

Outside, she catches Lily digging into her pockets for her pack of fags. She looks at Meg solemnly before lighting one, taking a drag before passing it on. “Why the hell did you have vodka tonight, anyway?” she asks, and Meg feels the skin behind her ears sting with heat. “You knew you were driving.”

Meg falls against the wall, feeling her legs shake as she draws from her cigarette. She looks to the side to locate her car, parked at the far end of the lot. “I’ll come back for it in the morning, then,” she says. The night air is warm, the sort that sticks to the skin, and Meg reaches over to feel the back of her neck, granted that it feels like it’s practically burning. She’s sweating so hard she thinks she’s dehydrating herself. “God, it’s so hot tonight,” she just says, flicking ashes to the ground.

“Could be rain,” Lily just says. There’s the sound of rustling plastic, then the metal scratching of a lighter. Meg turns her head to look as Lily hisses through her first drag, and Meg’s suddenly aware of how her throat’s dry. “Let me drive you home then?”

The offer sounds like something else entirely, and for a moment, Meg lets herself forget about Kat, about Kaya even; it’s the first time in so many days that Meg actually manages to look at Lily again – look as in _look_ , and with the alcohol still crawling under her skin, something inside her feels like it’s slipping. Lily takes a step back, leaning against the opposite wall; she’s looking back at her curiously, and it makes Meg shudder, a little. Meg drops her cigarette after taking a last drag, the gravel crunching under her shoe as she snuffs it out.

“All right,” Meg says, pushing herself off the wall, testing her legs, counting to three. She smiles to herself, pleased that she’s still standing, before taking a rather shaky first step. _Okay then_ , she just thinks, breathing in. The world feels like it’s righting itself slowly and so she walks on, vaguely aware of Lily hovering in the periphery, the smell of the smoke from her still-lit fag somewhat comforting.

*

It’s the motion that Meg struggles with, mostly. The ride is quiet, save for the few frantic times she asks Lily to pull over. Still, Lily says nothing; nothing that sounds like, _I told you so,_ , even when it’s totally warranted this time around; not like they’re still the inexperienced children they were, right? Yet she says nothing as she holds Meg’s hair, as she runs a hand over Meg’s back, and when Meg has to screw her eyes shut tighter, she knows it’s not from the retching or the rumbling in her stomach, but something else entirely.

Lily’s hand rubs harder right over Meg’s top, but for some reason, the cloth feels too thin, and her palm feels much warmer than usual; that, or perhaps Meg really hasn’t had vodka in a _really_ long while.

When they get back in the car, Meg feels her torso clearing up, a little. “Thanks, yeah?” she just says, managing a weak smile.

“Seen worse,” Lily just says. “We’ve been together too long.” The smile she gives Meg is entirely too soft, and Meg is unable to keep in the small laugh that escapes her. Suddenly, Meg feels like she’s years younger, and as if Lily sees it too, she reaches out and touches Meg’s cheek briefly. The look on Lily’s face shifts to something of mild surprise seconds later, and it’s all fucking amusing, this little moment, and Meg decides not to move, so as not to spoil it.

Meg finds that she’s still smiling as the question bubbles out of her. “Why is it again that you’re not into girls?” She bites her lip at the boldness of it; this is not the vodka anymore, but then Lily doesn’t know that, does she?

Lily laughs and Meg swears she almost hears a tinge of nerve right there. “I actually don’t know,” she just says. Well. _There’s_ an answer Meg doesn’t see coming, though Lily pulls her hand to herself and turns back to the road so quickly for her to perhaps notice how Meg flinches in response. “You ready?” Lily asks, clearing her throat, sparking the ignition.

“It’s a pity, that,” Meg says, deliberately soft and just under the sound of the engine. “You’re well fit and I--” Meg catches herself just in time, looking out her window as the engine comes alive. She feels Lily looking, her gaze heavy upon Meg’s skin; Meg resists looking back, suddenly afraid that what may come next may be something she isn’t ready for just yet. Instead she closes her eyes, trying to give in to sleep as Lily pulls at the handbrake and drives on.

(Motion’s not the problem anymore, is it now? Meg just asks herself.)

*

The next thing Meg knows, Lily’s nudging her awake; there’s the sound of the engine’s low whirring as it dies, followed by clinking metal as Lily presumably fumbles with her seatbelt. “We’re here,” says Lily, before leaning in closer and reaching around Meg to unbuckle hers in kind. Meg feels her breathing halt for a moment, trying not to let on just what Lily’s warmth and closeness does to her. “You okay?”

Meg makes a show of stretching, inhaling deeply with a soft hiss as she turns toward Lily finally, opening her eyes slowly. “Yeah,” says Meg, her voice coming out hoarser than intended. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Not too long,” Lily replies, moving back to get out of the door. “I’m going to need your keys, Meg,” she adds, peeking back into the driver’s side window. Meg blinks, processing what she’d just said, and with a slight shake of her head, she digs into her pocket and pulls them out, tossing them to Lily after.

Meg pushes her door open, climbing out of the car to catch Lily by the door, initially worried Lily might be confused with the whole set of them, yet to Meg’s surprise, Lily only fumbles once before getting the right key into the right lock. Meg laughs a little at the face Lily makes as she looks up; all triumphant and proud, glowing like a preschooler showing off her art work.

When Lily pushes open the door, she reaches back with her other hand blindly, and without much thought Meg reaches out for it with her own; Lily tightens her hold around Meg’s fingers, now all-too-feeling and tingly, as she pulls Meg in after her, and Meg just lets her.

It’s dark in the house when they enter, but not dark enough to hide the silhouettes; besides, Meg’s done this countless times before – clamber back in here in various degrees of drunkenness, with or without company -- and certainly, the place is not that big for some sort of muscle memory to kick in efficiently. Meg walks past Lily, who’s still trying her luck with the lights; says, “You should stay, it’s late,” before touching a lamp for light (finally) and heading straight into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.

Lily looks up and Meg doesn’t even try anymore, to not be taken aback by how pretty Lily is in this light; Meg bites down on her lip as Lily says, “I’ve tried catching a cab at an even later hour. You should rest.”

This time, Meg tries harder to hide the disappointment; she does so with a shrug, and for the lack of any better follow-up she tosses the bottle of water Lily’s way. Fortunately the girl’s still alert enough to catch it, and Meg watches as Lily unscrews the cap and drinks from it, trying hard not to stare at Lily lick her lips after; trying not to wonder exactly what she tasted off the rim.

“Stay a while,” Meg risks. She falls against the opposite wall and suddenly she feels all too vulnerable that she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

Lily pauses at that; takes another leisurely sip off the bottle and eventually downing all of it. When there’s nothing left, Lily just says, “Meg,” fixing her with a look that just about undoes her.

Meg curls her fist tighter, nails digging into her palm. “What?” she asks, attempting a smile even, before trying a diversion. “Are you hungry?”

Lily shakes her head, mouthing “No”; and then, “Thanks anyway.” The silence that hangs above them after is heavier than anything Meg’s ever known.

 _It’s such a small space_ , Meg thinks of her hallway; and besides, she’s never really grown used to being anywhere so quiet where Lily’s concerned, and now here she is, silently staring at Meg’s shoes, of all things. At some point, Lily even flinches so visibly that Meg has to ask, “What’s wrong?”

Lily starts speaking before interrupting herself – twice – before going on ahead on the third try. “What was that again,” she begins again, pausing. “That you were saying about me, liking girls?”

Meg thinks, _Oh shit_ , before rearranging herself against the wall. “I said I thought it was a pity,” she goes ahead to say anyway; no point in lying about that now, and, truth be told, Meg’s actually pretty interested in how the conversation’s about to go. “I said I thought you’re well fit.”

Lily turns her head to the side, looking like she’s hiding a blush; looking like she’s hiding a _smile_. After a while, Lily just asks, “Jesus, Meg, what is this?”

Something hitches in Meg’s throat, and right then, against the thumping in her chest she begins asking herself if she’s gone a bit too far now; if it’s time to take something back. Her lips are dry as Lily shifts her eyes back to meet hers, and all Meg can say is, “What is what?” and right there - _right there_ \- something feels like it’s shifting.

There’s something nearly imperceptible that changes in the way Lily’s looking at her; Meg senses it, senses something major’s about to come, but still the way Lily walks over and kisses her against the wall surprises her full-on anyway, that Meg has to take a moment or two to process all of it before responding a bit more properly. Lily braces a hand against Meg’s hip, and it fucking _burns_ so splendidly that there’s little Meg can do to stop herself from arching into Lily’s body, hand coming up to pull Lily closer by the back of her neck, her fingertips scaling the side of Lily’s face, touching the skin of it lightly, like she’s scared of being scalded.

They kiss for what feels like hours; Lily’s lips are soft as they taste of cigarettes and mint, and Meg has her eyes shut so tight she’s seeing neon-colored figures swerving all over.

When they part for breath, Lily’s heaving and so is she; her eyes are already open when Meg opens hers, and Meg breaks the silence herself with, “We can’t do this.”

Lily breathes in, blinking. “It’s bad for the music isn’t it?”

 _Oh fucking hell, Lils_ , Meg just thinks, looking at Lily; studying her face. Whatever is she going to do with this now, Meg asks herself, trying to focus on Lily’s eyes instead of her lips.

“Yeah, and that, too,” Meg just says, after a while, before finally pushing her away.

*

Meg calls a cab for Lily and they wait for it while sitting on the hood of Meg’s car, a considerable amount of space between them. Meg looks up into the sky, desperate for stars, but the street’s too well-lit for the attempt. They say nothing throughout, apart from the curt “Goodbye” Lily mumbles her way when the cab comes around.

Meg mutters something like, “See you,” after her, as Lily ducks into the passenger seat without so much of a final glance. _Shit, you’ve fucking done it now_ , Meg tells herself as she walks back into her apartment, hands shoved in pockets.

When she closes the door and gets to her phone, the first person she calls is Kaya, who picks up after the fourth ring. She’s shouting her hello into the receiver over the noise of the crowd; typical Kaya night, then. “Meg, it’s insane out here, come on over,” she says, voice too eager.

Meg catches the clock – nearly half-past four and definitely right on schedule. “Where are you, babe?” she asks finally, lifting her keys off the table, pinning her phone between shoulder and ear; listens in to Kaya’s barely coherent instructions before saying, “Yeah, got it, wait for me, yeah?”

When Kaya laughs right into the receiver, she feels so fucking _close_ that Meg almost forgets who she’s been with for the past few hours.

(The key word being, _almost_ ).

*  


IV.

Forgetting’s all too easy with Kaya, it turns out; she greets Meg at the door, throwing her arms around her neck and planting a kiss on her cheek; it’s chaste but it sends a shiver down Meg’s spine, nevertheless, and Meg tries hard to stop her hands from shaking as she holds on.

“Great to see you too, K,” Meg says as Kaya pushes a fresh bottle of beer into her hand; Meg groans, remembering she’s had a bit much to drink early on. “God, I don’t think I can drink anymore.”

Kaya grins at her; her eyes so fucking _bright_. “Just one?” she says, almost coyly, and in response, Meg takes a swig at the bottle, just for the sake of it. Kaya reaches out, touches Meg’s cheek briefly as she croons, “Good girl,” before pulling at Meg’s hand and walking back over to the group. Meg follows, dazed, her touch still stinging.

When Jack sees her, he jumps out of his seat, arms open and screaming, “Megan!” over the music blasting out of the speakers; it’s another familiar band onstage, Meg notes, and just then, Jack pulls her in and wraps his arms around her, crushing her against his sweaty chest. “Fucking hell, looking fit as always, aren’t we, babe?”

Meg pushes him away, laughing as she struggles slightly with the hand that’s holding onto the beer. “Jack,” she just says, taking another sip from the bottle. She’s thankful to have something to do with her hands and lips, at least; off the side, Kaya’s leaning against the railing and looking on, her heavy-lidded eyes steady and focused under the shifting lights. The intensity of the gaze makes Meg swallow hard. “You done playing?”

“Sadly you missed us,” Jack just says, scratching the back of his head. “I thought you had a gig with Lily?”

The name hits Meg like a kick to the gut, and she tries to hide the jolt by taking another swig off the beer. The alcohol’s seeping back into her body so quickly that there’s already a buzz there, somewhere, and it hasn’t even been half an hour. “We did,” she just says, after swallowing. “Earlier tonight – it just ended, actually.”

“Look who’s had a full night, then,” says Kaya from behind Jack. When Meg shifts her eyes over at her, Kaya’s smirking, looking like she meant something else entirely.

“It’s a miracle I’m even standing up,” Meg says, smirking right back, and Jack taps her on the back once, slurring something like, “Atta girl, Prescott,” as she makes her way over to the railing to settle into the space beside Kaya.

Onstage, the band finishes and behind them, Jack comes up and says something about helping out in the next set. Kaya just looks over her shoulder and mouths, “Go ahead.” Meg leans further against the railing, trying to breathe through the thick cigarette smoke hanging low from the ceiling.

When Kaya turns back at her, she’s got a fag hanging from the corner of her lips; she’s smiling at Meg as she lights it before blowing a thin column of smoke straight ahead and passing the fag over to Meg.

Meg licks her lips before drawing from it; the filter tastes of Kaya’s gloss already, and Meg can’t help licking her lips again, after. Kaya catches the gesture; looks at Meg wearing her small surprised face. “So, Lily – how is she these days?” asks Kaya, and the question immediately pushes Meg to down what little is left in her bottle of beer.

“Fantastic, if you must really ask,” Meg just says, wiping her lips with the edge of her beer-holding hand.

“She doesn’t mind at all, does she?” Kaya continues. “That you’re here?”

Meg shakes her head. It’s not like Lily would actually care – why would she, right? But that isn’t the entire truth. “She doesn’t know,” says Meg. “And she doesn’t care, really.”

Kaya just says, “Ah,” taking a drag before passing it over again. “Of course.” And then, “Are you sure?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Kaya?” Meg just asks back, trying to appear nonchalant; in truth, under these ever-changing lights and the insistent thudding from the speakers, she’s nothing but a pile of nerves, and she’s feeling suddenly so _raw_ , but then again, it could be the hour, or the sheer exhaustion, or both.

Kaya responds by hooking a finger into one of Meg’s belt loops and pulling her closer. _How can she be so together at this hour_ , Meg just thinks, as she stumbles to follow the motion; Kaya lets out a little yelp in surprise as Meg misses a step and teeters slightly. “I mean,” says Kaya, whispering closer now, once Meg’s steady. “If she’s okay with this.”

Meg swallows at that, trying to process the heat of Kaya’s breath as it wraps around her ear; as her fingertip traces a line across Meg’s stomach, just below the hem of her shirt. Kaya’s definitely fucked up, Meg just tells herself; there’s no other explanation for this. “I’m not seeing Lily, if that’s what you mean,” Meg manages after a while, hissing softly when Kaya scratches harder with the tip of a fingernail – at which point Meg starts pushing her away. “What is it to you, then?”

“Don’t be daft,” Kaya just says, touching the space below Meg’s chin. Meg looks up and faces her, and when Kaya leans in for the kiss, Meg is not surprised at all.

(Kaya tastes so _different_ , she just thinks.)

*

Meg loses track of the days she spends in Kaya’s flat; her body clock’s good as whacked anyway, because living with Kaya meant waking up well after noon and staying out until daybreak, clambering back into the pad with lungs full of smoke and alcohol in their veins. They fuck as the sun rises and sleep through all of the morning, not even pausing for breakfast, most days.

Much to Meg’s surprise, Kaya’s actually a soft, gentle thing in bed; it’s like she sheds the energy of the night at the door, or strips it away with her clothes.

The first time it happens, Meg is taken aback by the utter strength of the kiss that leads up to it, only to have Kaya melt right under her hands afterward; as if Kaya’s given everything and had now nothing left in herself. Meg remembers that most fondly, how she held Kaya up then, hands gripping both sides of her naked torso, surprised at how _light_ Kaya actually was; at the ease with which Meg managed to bring her over to the bed. At how quiet she was throughout.

That time, Kaya opened her eyes only once, and Meg could easily have mistaken the look she gave her as something like “No” or “Stop”, had it not been for the wicked grin that came alongside it, a split-second later. Meg remembers smiling back that time, safely certain that it wasn’t about love or any similarly scary thing – it was just what it was, and truth be told, Meg liked the thing it was shaping up to be.

*

In the nights between, Meg plays the drums for Jack and Luke and Kaya, all the while disregarding the messages Lily’s left in her phone. For the most part, Lily’s only reminding her of their schedule, and Meg thinks about Kat briefly, as it is the only way to push _that_ kiss out of her mind.

Meg blinks hard as she tries to get back and focus on the scene, trying to pay attention to the song Kaya’s actually talking about; she’s got two hands wrapped around the microphone, leaning against the mic stand for support by now, as she’d already had a bit to drink. Meg bites her lip as she looks ahead, at Kaya’s silhouette against the light shrouded with smoke, and when Kaya turns back to her, Meg catches a glimpse of the fag in Kaya’s right hand and nods.

Off the side, Jack says something like, “So it’s ‘Run’, then?” to Kaya and Kaya says, “Yeah,” taking a drag before approaching the mic again, her hips swaying. Meg finds herself staring and swallowing hard as Luke starts the beat on the bass, tapping his worn-out sneakers against the wooden floor. In her head, Meg counts to three, before twirling her drumstick a final time and riding on.

*

It all feels like sleepwalking, and it’s Kaya who wakes her up, in the end. “What are you doing here, Meg?” They’ve just hit the bed; it’s 8 a.m. and by then Meg’s already gotten used to feeling sleepy despite the warm sun in her face coming in through Kaya’s bedroom window. Meg rubs at her eyes, yawning; Kaya traces the edge of her jaw with a finger.

“What do you mean?” asks Meg.

“Not that I don’t love it when you’re around,” says Kaya, stretching. Meg looks down at the feel of Kaya’s body arching into her and she notes how Kaya’s top is entirely too thin and transparent to be worn in daylight. “But you’re not just _here_ , you know?”

Meg shakes her head. She’s too knackered to process this. “I don’t get you,” she says, but that’s technically a lie.

“Think about it, babe,” Kaya says, voice just a bit over a hum. And then, “I see through you.”

Meg’s about to ask what it is Kaya does see, but by then Kaya’s breathing has already evened out, her light snores filling the room. Perhaps it’s for the best that Meg doesn’t get any answers now.

*

She can’t sleep; despite the painful throb in her head her mind’s so awake and Kaya’s room is growing warmer as noon sets in, so she gets out of Kaya’s bed and calls Lily, finally. When she looks at the calendar, Meg realizes it’s been more than a month.

“Where have you been?” asks Lily and Meg tries to ignore how she’s obviously whispering. “You never called.”

Meg listens in a moment; it’s the unmistakable sound of someone trying to shuffle out of bed quietly, and Meg clears her throat. “Sorry it slipped my mind,” she manages. “I’ll meet you in half an hour.” It’s the furthest she can go without breaking so she hangs up without another word.

Hunched over Kaya’s bureau, Meg tries to keep breathing; she thinks about how she’s underestimated the inherent force in Lily’s voice, forgetting how it feels just hearing it again after going without it for so long.

(All this, and Lily’s not even singing.)

*

V.

On the way over, Meg conditions herself for that first moment she sees Lily again; tells herself she’s going to be fine, while silently praying for Kat to be not there.

She isn’t, but when they see each other, she and Lily, the air thickens and it nearly feels so solid that it pushes against her ears. She doesn’t say anything – nothing about how Lily’s breath hitches so audibly; nothing about how her eyes widen; about how her face gets all too flushed, then all too pale too instantaneously. Somewhere along the way Lily coughs and Meg asks softly, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lily says, but she’s rubbing over her chest with a hand like she can’t breathe. Meg almost reaches out to touch her in her worry but decides against it, and suddenly the room fills with girls who aren’t even there. (Like Kaya. Like Kat.)

Practice is too high-strung and Lily slips often, missing her cues. Meg can’t understand either, why she expected so much out of this; out of Lily, to be exact. She _knows_ they haven’t practiced in so many weeks, and someone’s got to be rusty, yet the anger seeps through anyway, and after the nth “sorry” she gets, Meg finds herself hurling her drumsticks to the floor.

“Fuck it Lily,” she hisses. “Where are you today?”

Lily looks over at her briefly before hanging her head, rubbing at her forehead with her fingers. “Sorry,” she says again. “It’s been a while.”

Sighing, Meg gets up and picks up a bottle of water off the floor, just past the drums. On the way there Meg catches a whiff of something off Lily; something that reminds her of Kat, and inside, her gut lurches painfully. She tries to flush it down with water, taking in three big gulps. “Jesus, Lily,” says Meg after. “Kat’s totally fucking you over well, isn’t she?”

Lily looks at her sharply, and Meg has to bite her tongue to keep the instant apology in; it’s not necessary, she reminds herself. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lily asks.

Meg takes another swig, breathes in before, “You mean to say you haven’t been sleeping with her all this while?” It’s out so quick, she feels the words cutting her tongue thinly.

Lily doesn’t say anything, apart from a small, unintelligible sound that Meg can’t place – is it anger? Is it guilt? Lily lingers a bit, holding Meg’s eye, before turning around and heading toward the restroom. Meg watches her disappear behind the door as she downs the rest of her water.

 _Shit_ , she just thinks, tossing the empty bottle into a nearby bin before walking after her.

*

Meg breathes in before pushing the door open, and when she does, she finds Lily staring at her reflection in the mirror. Meg had braced herself for something harsh; some yelling perhaps. But there’s something about the small room that feels quite warm, like someone had called a truce earlier on, and Meg succumbs to it, walking over to settle beside Lily, her back against the counter. “I’m sorry,” she says, looking up. “That was horrible.”

She’s still staring at a spot on the ceiling when she feels something warm around her wrist, and right then Lily clears her throat. “It’s all right,” Lily says, and Meg holds her breath at the feel of Lily’s thumb rubbing upon a patch of skin near the heel of her palm. The gesture’s so _affectionate_ , and her chest tightens at the sensation, starkly undeserved. “Do you feel better now?”

Meg finds herself saying, “Marginally.” She tries a shrug, as if to lift the weight off her shoulders, and when she drags her eyes back down from the ceiling, she sees how Lily’s not even looking at her; focused instead on the small space on Meg’s wrist that she’s been tending.

“Do you feel better,” Lily begins, breathing in. “Every time you fuck off for a while?”

Meg sighs. “I wish it were still that simple.” Like this, Lily looks so small, almost folded into herself; the silence that hangs above them after keeps the both of them still for a bit. After a while, Lily pulls her hand back and turns the faucet on. Meg looks away at the sound of water splashing against skin.

“Why wouldn’t it be this time?” asks Lily as she finishes. The absence of the previously comforting sound sits on Meg’s chest heavily. Sighing, she turns around and braces a hand against the cold tile surface of the counter, finally managing to look at Lily, catching her eye on the mirror.

Breathing in, Meg just says, “It’s because this time, I distrust myself more than I distrust anyone else.” She holds Lily’s eyes all the while she’s saying it; Lily looks away first.

“You don’t trust yourself around me,” Lily says, so soft that it throws Meg completely.

“Kat likes you, you know,” she says instead, clearing her throat, trying to recover. _Go back to the point_ , she tells herself. _To why all of this is difficult in the first place_. “She hasn’t stayed put this long in quite a while. It must be you.”

Lily looks up at that, seeking Meg’s eyes on the mirror again. Something has shifted, Meg feels as much; the moment Lily opens her mouth, it’s almost like Meg already _knows_ what’s about to come out. “I’m seeing her, Meg,” she says finally, looking away again and moving for the faucet, if only to fill the room with some other sound. “It’s not something we planned, it just--”

 _It’s not even supposed to be a surprise_ , Meg reminds herself, though her chest thuds in a way that may be construed as shock; she concedes there’s no way her body can withhold any sort of reaction, but in the end she pulls off a nonchalant enough, “It happens, hon.” The endearment is what hurts most of all. “It’s better this way.”

It’s her turn to use water as an excuse now; notes the way the temperature shifts from cold to lukewarm as it hits her skin. She rubs her hands together under the faucet absently, and after a considerable while it feels all too raw, too soft and Meg almost thinks the skin would break under the force of a nail.

She’s contemplating the easy possibility of wounds when she feels a tug somewhere; when she looks to her side, it’s Lily pulling at the hem of her top. The move’s so hesitant yet the palpable want is _there_ and Meg feels the air get heavier now with something else entirely.

When Lily closes the space, Meg almost feels how Lily’s heart is straining out of her chest, each steady throb more forceful than the one before, and Meg pulls her closer until Lily’s pushing her away, presumably for breath. Lily steps back, licking her lips, her eyes bright; the second time around, it’s Meg who moves forward and in, nails digging into Lily’s waist as she pushes Lily flat against the tiled wall now behind her.

It’s different, Meg thinks, from the other one they shared; this one’s rough and certain and painfully aware of its impropriety. Lily’s lips taste clean; like mint, like sunrise after a good night’s sleep, and Meg is unable to stop her thoughts from drifting to Kaya briefly, remembering how she tasted of a curious mix of vodka and beer and smoke.

The kiss ends abruptly at that, and just then Meg catches the gloss that Lily has on. It’s cherry and sweet, and right then the first word that rams through Meg’s mind is “Kat” and her head throbs a little. “That’s Kat’s gloss, innit?” she asks, breathless as she runs her thumb across Lily’s bottom lip. Of course, like all the others, Meg doesn’t know this for a fact, but the fear in her head is so real it doesn’t even matter how Lily responds to that, not even if it’s a denial. Meg doesn’t wait for it; just pushes herself off Lily and walks away.

*

They skip the next practice altogether and proceed to the gig, a couple of weeks later.

Meg feels like she’s teetering on the edge of something throughout; it feels like heartbreak, the first few days, only to progress to something like longing as the gig draws nearer. First there is dread, her gut clenching at the thought of seeing Lily again, but as days go by there’s something else there and Meg doesn’t quite have the precise word for it.

On the night itself, Meg gets to the venue first, as usual; she directs the setup, talking to the sound engineers with a beer in her hand. She watches the place slowly fill with people; it’s shaping up to be a good crowd, which is not a surprise at all as it is a Friday, and already she’s spotted a few familiar faces. Meg smiles at them from where she’s leaning against the bar, raising her bottle in greeting at times, but for the most part she’s got her eyes glued to the door as she waits for Lily.

Lily arrives a good while later; walks into the place in a way that makes Meg take another swig from her bottle and then feel around her pockets for her pack of fags. Lily spots her just as she’s about to slide a cigarette out.

“Sorry I’m late,” she greets, smiling. Lily’s done something to her eyes; they come off bright and clear, and Meg can’t stop thinking about how fucking gorgeous all of it makes her. “Are we about to start?”

Meg pretends to look over to the technicians; in truth it’s only an excuse to look away. “Cigarette break first,” she says, fag dangling from the corner of her mouth as she digs with a hand into a pocket for her lighter. “Coming?”

Meg holds her breath as Lily says no. “I’ll be over here,” she says. “You go on ahead.” It’s the answer Meg hoped for, actually, and she steps out into the relative quiet, the night air cool and clear. As she takes a drag, she notes this unfamiliar rhythm in her chest; how it terrifies her and excites her all at once.

She doesn’t even get halfway through her fag; she drops it after the third hit, stubbing it out before heading back in, suddenly craving the noise.

*

She takes a seat behind the drums right away, coming in from the door. Catching her eye, Lily nods from the bar, though it takes her a while to part the sea of bodies between. Meg fiddles with her drumstick, restless; her eyes scouring the place for any sign of Kat.

“Is Kat here?” It’s the first thing she asks Lily when she gets to the stage.

Lily turns around, and Meg taps her foot, suddenly too nervous. She’s wondering about how that would work, should she ever come face to face with her sister any time soon. “I don’t know,” says Lily finally, facing Meg. “She said she’d come.”

 _Right_ , Meg just thinks, breathing in. She looks away and tries to find the engineers instead. On the way over, she takes in the crowd and in that moment she just thinks, _Fuck it_. And then, _This – here – is mine_. “It’s a full night,” she says, going ahead and starting a beat. It seems to delight the crowd, and just like that, the place starts humming with this seductive energy; Meg feels the ticklish edges of it against her skin, and really, it’s moments like this that Meg loves the most. When the clapping starts, Meg says, “What do you say?”

Lily breathes in before saying, “Fuck it then, let’s go.” (And if that isn’t the _sexiest_ thing she’s heard all night, Meg just thinks, twirling her stick a final time before speeding up, her heart racing.)

*

 _She’s such a thing, isn’t she_ , Meg asks herself somewhere halfway through, when this familiar dull ache starts crawling up her arms. She’s spent most of the first half trying to keep up with Lily’s energy; it’s somewhat inexplicable, the way Lily keeps _moving_ , granted Kat’s not even here (or is she?) and she’s even addressed the crowd this night more than she’s addressed all the other crowds in past gigs combined.

From where Meg’s sitting she can’t help but notice how Lily’s shirt hikes every time she raises her hands. She doesn’t dress like Kaya, not at all, but then it’s not like she has to; on this night, Lily’s dressed in a plain white tee, though her legs look ridiculously longer under that short denim skirt, and _Christ_.

When the song ends, it’s with Lily’s low drawl, and Meg feels the roughness of her voice trudge up her spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake, warming the skin. Meg’s almost out of air when she catches the look on Lily’s face as she whips around, fixing her eyes on Meg as she waits for the last few beats – the song’s outro is a crowd-favorite drum solo, and Meg tries to hold Lily’s eyes while trying to not get distracted off the beat by the irregular hooting from the audience. Meg bites down on her lip throughout, trying to hang onto her sticks and her heart the best way she knows how.

*

It’s the last song Meg dreads the most, regardless of what it is; she’s always been nervous about leaving the audience with something good to sleep with after every gig, and this time, with Lily saying it’s about time they try _that_ new song, Meg feels like the night has just shifted into something uncontrollable at the very last moment. On edge and suddenly tense, Meg just reaches over and takes a swig from Lily’s beer that’s perched on the sill.

“I don’t see Kat,” Meg just says, trying to look nonplussed. “Isn’t this new one for her?” It’s another one of those things she doesn’t know for a fact, but then, when Lily smiles as she reaches over for the beer in Meg’s hand, Lily looks almost _flustered_.

“Don’t be daft,” Lily says. She looks into Meg’s eyes for a moment, licking her lips after downing the rest of the beer. She reaches over gingerly after, wiping the sweat off Meg’s brow with her thumb, and Meg tries not to gasp so audibly at how, right then, it all feels like Lily’s just chosen _something_. Meg catches a split-second of Lily’s smile just as she turns back to face the crowd, saying something like, “And also, this song is about you.”

When Lily looks over her shoulder one more time as the crowd erupts in mad cheers, Meg nearly loses the beat as she lets a laugh out; for once, it feels like it’s _her_ this time, and not just anyone she happens to know, and somewhere inside her, there’s a different sort of knocking that begins, just right under her chest, a lazy drumming that tickles softly. #  


**Author's Note:**

> Skins RPF, Lily/Meg/Kaya, the bandfic au part 2. Title is from Metric.


End file.
